24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I can see the darkness:
Oh this life and light slowly fades,
All I love, I’ll so miss-
My body shall soon meet the spades.
Now I feel this lightness:
For such peace, my body I trade.
I see thee, and can’t kiss;
For thou, I’ll wait here many days.
11:00 AM Poem
Elizabeth Wingert
A recipe for lovers
Start with passion. Add in the first part of silliness. As you go, slowly stir in patience, compassion, and empathy.
Add the remaining silliness. Top with a kiss!
Speak to me with your eyes,
the love you have inside.
Touch me without words.
Hold me without arms.
So I can feel the you that is beyond form.
Share with me your essence.
Radiate your light.
Burn bright.
How do I get rid of weight?
I shovel food, and stay up late
binge watch my favorite sitcom
don’t bug me if my game is on
and then I sleep till noon, not fun
pretty soon the day is gone.
My middle, see
is haunting me, probably till eternity
battling the bulge is hard
every pint adds to my lard
sitting mostly with TV
cellulite is after me
even when my thighs are thinning
it’s crunch time and I’m not winning.
Solution, difficult but true
flour and sweets I should not do
if tummy trimming, get off the couch
go exercise, get outta the house!
and sleep, I must get regularly
then flatter tummy will I see.
– Sandra Johnson
The Jar
Bottled up within me
Deep down in my core
Lies a jar that’s over flowing
With something I don’t want anymore.
I want to take that bottle
And smash it to the ground,
Ridding myself of its contents,
Before it causes me to drown.
But the bottle just refuses
To come into the light,
It doesn’t want to be scrutinized,
So it stays hidden from my sight.
So I sit partially submerged,
Because the jar refuses to budge.
The jar has taken over my life,
Because I held a grudge.
I prepared for the school dance the dress pressed a boudinair for his lapel dancing to songs in advance all the dreams of youth bursting forward and coming soon. Twirling and swirling, over and again. Yet Dad grew sick early that morning. A fever first caught our attention. His quiet mornings had been clues as he cradled his aching head in folded arms. These were the days before the actual tumor was first detected, the pain present but the malady silent and lurking. To the hospital we went and waited. Twirling and swirling, over and again. We sat next to him, playing the television, laughing nervously, and watching for doctors. A rerun of Lawrence Welk began, and so did memories. My sisters and I danced to long-forgotten songs floating like flowers in lapels at school dances Dad our handsome beau, slowly smiling then gently singing. Twirling and swirling, over and again.
Drizzling crystal raindrop
Born out of a nimbus
Races its way nearing
an unforeseen journey,
leaves a thunder striking.
Drizzling crystal raindrop
leaps into the tall trees,
spraying fresh morning kiss
and shrouded fog reveals
whispering woods in bliss.
Drizzling crystal raindrop
drips over a green leaf
swiped by a butterfly,
forms lens on a petal,
reflects the high blue sky.
Drizzling crystal raindrop
scrambles along the roof
glides through the window pane
splashes into ripples
As I walk down the street.
Into an abyss, I fall
Red and black shadow my mind
For sanity has departed
Senses of realism turns horrid
I shake, I stir
I moan, I tremble
In a forgotten realm
Blood pounding in my veins
Urging to kill, feed, and bathe
With eternal flames of ice
Damnation to concede
Sinful desires of need
Ripping flesh, sounds of pain
Pain, feeling of dread
Dread, emotion of death
Death, certainty of the end
Only to begin, again
Into an abyss, I fall
Legacy
“Give me a metaphor for the moment.” Harriet Slaughter
Remember me in metaphors, not in everyday cliches.
Remember my written words
how I spilt my heart across the page.
Remember me for my good deeds,
the ways I intended the world to be.
Remember me inside the scents of roses and of daisies.
Remember me in the touch of rain on your cheeks,
inside the sincerity of ballads on the radio.
Remember me in the sweetest taste of raspberries.
Remember me like a song, one you repeat over and over
never grow tired of its entirety.
My legacy will continue on as you move on.
I’ll be the bittersweet side inside your history.
Margarette Wahl
Poetry is a thing with rules.
More guidelines than actual rules
rhyme this, rhythm that,
make sure it has some kind of flow,
goddammit, if it doesn’t you’re a hack
and you can’t follow the simple rules.
tell me tell me tell me
Tell me this, then, oh Grand Poet Wizard
if I must adhere to your rules, can my lines
be
so
short?
Is
this
cheating?
tell me tell me tell me
Or will you say “get out?” I must instead
practice law, medicine, science, or some other more noble endeavour. That is where the money is don’t you know?
“I have a friend on wall street,” “my father works for a firm you see,” “What makes you the proper candidate for such a noble endeavor?” I’d say my inability to march in a straight line.
tell me tell me tell me